A Marriage Made in Mayfair (3 page)

Suzanna chuckled. The laughing, teasing man before her reminded her of the Lord Danning she thought she knew and proclaimed a friend last season. Feelings she squashed rose within her, and so, too, a pang of sadness; that although she would welcome his kiss, wished it in fact, she was not as fond of Lord Danning as one ought to be at such a moment. She could not quell her need to teach the high stickler a lesson he’d never forget in manners and in how to treat a lady.

“Just a kiss,” she said.

It was far from just a kiss
.

When his lips touched hers, Suzanna lost all memory of his slight, the harsh words spoken between them and her revenge. Gone was the lady who spent hours on deportment. In her place sat a woman who wanted the touch of a man. And not just any man, but Lord Danning.

The one man she no longer even liked.

Chapter Four

Royce clasped Suzanna’s jaw and let his fingers slide into her hair. She was so altered since last year—lusciously thick strands of golden-red curls, now expertly coiffured to accentuate the greenest, brightest eyes he’d ever seen. He had noticed her immediately at her coming out ball. Fresh from the country, the woman had been awkward and unsure of herself, with no idea of her beauty. But her beauty was no longer hidden. Innocent longing, unlike any he’d ever known stared up at him and left him breathless.

His lips touched hers, and he was lost.

Royce allowed himself to be swept away into the firestorm of desire burning through his body. Never had soft lips and a tentative tongue excited him as much as it did now. He pulled her hard against him, and immediately, the intoxicating scent of jasmine enthralled him. Her ardent response to his kiss urged him to take the intimate interlude to a more satisfying conclusion, but the gentleman within him urged caution.

After his mistreatment of her last season, Suzanna deserved more than a rough tumble in the vine. For all her untutored yet delicious kiss, she was untouched. Royce didn’t yet know if she was a candidate for his future wife, but what he did understand was to gain her with such underhanded scandalous means would not be favourable to an agreeable or pleasurable future. And after his first, enthralling taste of her lips, he decided if they were to have a future together it would be a pleasurable one, not one founded on regret and shame.

He tilted her chin and deepened the kiss, leaving no doubt as to the effect she had on him. The touch of her fingers, delightful and tentative, made him burn. He throbbed, wanted to lift her skirts and have her up against the ivy-covered trellis. Have her moan his name against his ear as her hot core clamped around him, draining him of his own release.

Royce pulled away, shocked at his own reactions and dishonourable thoughts about the woman. She stared up at him with glassy, lust-fogged eyes that gleamed in the dappled moonlight. “You should return to the ball before you’re missed,” he said.

Her pink tongue slipped out onto her bottom lip as if to tease him completely senseless. Stifling a growl, Royce stood and lifted her to her slippered feet, then set about removing the telling evidence she had been thoroughly kissed and manhandled by a rogue.

With gentle precision, he positioned a misplaced curl back within the bonds of a pin, the soft curl tempting him to bury his hands in her silken locks. She would look exquisite with her golden-red hair cascading about her shoulders. Or better yet, against his pillows, all mussed from his lovemaking.

She slapped his hand away and stepped back. “I am perfectly able to right my dress and appearance, my lord.”

“Of course, Miss March,” he said unable to hide the smile in his voice.

“I suppose a gentleman of your reputation thinks of such trysts as normal and commonplace, certainly something to laugh about.”

“On the contrary, Miss March, and if I have offended you, please accept my most humble apologies.” Royce bit back a smile. She was a delightful minx to behold, feathers ruffled and indignant. A twinge pricked in his chest and he frowned.

“Good evening, Lord Danning,” she said and curtsied.

Royce clasped her fingers before she could stalk away and didn’t miss the slight tremble that thrummed against his palm. “Good evening, Miss March.” The urge to kiss her again nearly overrode his control, but the defiant gleam in her eye told him she’d not take well to more kisses from him this eve, even upon her hand.

Still, plenty of other eves in the season
.

Royce watched her walk toward the terrace doors, her skirts billowing about long, striding legs, leaving him in the shadows with desires that ran as hot as the Arabian desert during the midday sun. Miss March had always been delectable. Now, she was desirable.

***

Later that night, Royce watched Suzanna waltz gracefully with Lord Moyle and a simmering anger he thought never to feel started to burn in his gut. Grudgingly, he acknowledged the nuance for what it was. Jealousy.

“May I grant you my heartfelt condolences, Lord Danning?”

Royce beat back the urge to snarl at Suzanna’s brother. “What do you mean, March?” he asked, taking a swig of his brandy and welcoming the distraction of the burn from his growing temper. How dare this bastard speak to him after the trouble he’d caused with his own fool of a sibling.

“As I understand it, you will soon be married.” March smirked and looked out over the gathered throng of guests.

Royce frowned. “So the banns have been read? Comical. I hadn’t thought I’d asked a woman to be my bride.” He clenched his jaw at the resounding chuckle, which grated on his already frayed nerves.

“Well of course you will, my lord. A ruined viscount must marry, and soon. I should imagine you have your sights set on someone…wealthy?”

Equal to his own height, Royce glared into March’s eyes, one burning question fogging his mind: how had the bastard found out his situation was so desperate? “Not unlike yourself, a grandson of a farmer trying to marry an earl’s daughter. Do not think yourself so much different, March. At least I have no need to climb the social ladder, only to keep what is rightfully mine from birth.” Royce inwardly cringed as Suzanna’s words stabbed at his conscience. Perhaps he was too high in the instep.

March paused. “
Touché
. And you may do whatever you wish as long as the woman you seek is not my sister.”

With a will of their own, Royce’s gaze sought out the beautiful Miss March. She shone like the brightest candle flame in a room full of superbly gowned women. A rare light and one to be treasured.

Suzanna laughed at something Lord Moyle said, and a pang of regret pierced Royce’s chest. She had once looked at him in such a way, with easy joviality before his hasty, hurtful words had sent her from London and travel abroad. And all because of his brother, and this arse standing next to him who couldn’t control their gambling. Yet they could not entirely be blamed for the family woes. Royce, as head of the family, had not been as careful as one should.

Yet not all was lost. Suzanna had kissed him, after all; perhaps there was hope for them still. He turned his attention back to Henry March. “Would such a decision not be up to Miss March? She is of age, is she not?”

The deadly gleam that entered March’s eyes gave Royce an odd sense of pleasure. Annoying the bastard calmed the raging beast inside him that wanted to beat the cocky gentleman to a pulp.

“Seek her out for her fortune, and there will be hell to pay, Danning. Your treatment of her last year was uncalled for and nearly ruined her in the eyes of society. I would see her married to a man she loves and to one who will love her in return. Do I make myself clear?”

Royce chuckled. “And if I love her, will my suit then be welcome?”

“An easy gesture, to profess love to a rich lady when you are broke. You made it obvious she was not acceptable last season. Need I remind you my father established business in textile trading and finance? He worked his way to the wealth and position we hold in society. Or has her fortune blinded you to our common heritage?”

Royce looked away from Suzanna and inhaled a calming breath. “I have not forgotten. But I believe you have also overlooked the fact your sister had a tendre for me, one I wish restored. Keep an eye on her, March; my rakish wiles may see her wedded and bedded before the month is out.” He smirked.

“Watch your mouth lest you find yourself wed and dead,” March said, with a pointed stare before storming away.

Royce watched March go, and sighed. How he regretted his words to Suzanna all those months ago. Hated to see her esteem for him wither and die with every hurtful word he’d uttered. His temper, having been spiked by his wayward brother, had been unfairly released on an innocent woman—one who would take much persuasion to believe he meant no harm by his words. It was probably for the best if he left her alone. Just then Suzanna laughed—a warm, wondrous sound—that sent fire coursing toward his groin. Impossible.

Royce looked away and caught sight of his friend, Lord Renn. The Earl waved and strode over.

“Danning, my good man, how have you been? It seems an age since I saw you last.”

He scoffed. “If I recall the last time I saw you, Renn, you were disappearing from a ballroom with the married hostess. Who by the way,” he said, nodding toward a group of ladies, “is looking in your direction.”

Renn laughed. “It was a good night if I remember.”

Royce raised an eyebrow at Renn’s ignorance to his sarcasm. He shook his head. “What brings you to town? I thought you were for the continent this season?”

“I was. Made it all the way to Spain, then turned for home. Problem with my prized mare. Seems she’s fallen pregnant and will not be racing this year after all.”

Royce knew very well about prized mares. His gaze sought out Miss March. “Perhaps her foal will be your next great galloper.”

Renn snorted. “Highly doubtful when its sire has a tendency for laziness during a race.” He took a sip of his drink. “Saw you dancing with Miss March and having a cosy
tête-à-tête
with her brother. Care to enlighten an old friend?”

Royce stifled a growl over the reminder. “March was merely warning me off his sister.”

Renn sputtered and choked on his drink. “Like you could possibly be interested in such a disaster. Do you remember last year when she spilt her champagne down the front of her white dress at the Dupree’s garden party? But for all her awkwardness, she did have a lovely
décolletage
.”

Royce clamped his hands into fists. The last thing he needed to do was lose his temper and come to blows with his best friend before the
ton
. He took a deep calming breath. “I would suggest you forget about Miss March and her awkward first season. I would also recommend your low opinion on Miss March be kept to yourself.”

Renn looked at him with astonishment. “You’re courting the disaster?”

Anger surged through Royce, and he turned a menacing glare on his soon-to-be ex-friend. “One more word against Miss March, and we are no longer acquaintances,” he said, barely controlling his temper. “I wronged her last year and wish to make amends. I’ve always admired her person. It is just unfortunate she cannot choose her relatives.”

“Yes, what a ghastly family. They stink of trade. Why, before her father died I swear he would arrive at entertainments covered in ink,” he said and laughed. “I’m surprised Miss March can attend any balls and hold her head up high.”

Royce watched Suzanna make her way back to her sibling, her easy graceful movement sure and confident. Last season she would have tripped over her own feet by now and would probably have been trying to stand without showing her ankles. Royce reluctantly admired her transformation into a graceful butterfly. She was a remarkable woman to grace the high sticklers of the
ton
and face them square on. Last season she could barely muster a word without stuttering but not anymore. “I suggest you leave, Renn. Now.”

Renn frowned. “Apologies, Danning. I did not know your intentions toward the girl had changed.” He cleared his throat. “Do not take offense, old man; who is to look out for you if not I. I am your oldest and best friend. One who, I believe, has the right to remind you the Dannings do not marry those without a title.”

“Her brother’s a gentleman,” Royce said, not bothering to mask his menacing tone. “She is then worthy of my hand by your values.”

Renn held his hands up in defeat. “All I meant was the people from trade are different from us. I do not want you to regret a decision you cannot easily mend. I mean, get hold of yourself, Danning; her grandfather was a farmer.”

Royce gave his friend a hard look and refused to answer the man’s spiteful and lofty principles. He let the taut silence stretch between them.

“Will we see you at Ascot this year?” Renn asked at length.

“No.” Royce glared at March across the crowded ballroom, one of the men responsible for his missing the meet. The weight of the debt he owed settled on his shoulders and threatened to crumble him to his knees. “Not this year I’m afraid.” Royce pushed the disappointment aside. Such circumstances were wont to happen when one was broke. He should probably start getting used to it.

“Probably a wise move. I hear Jannette is odds-on favourite of winning the Gold Cup. Next year perhaps,” Renn said, signalling to an acquaintance across the room. “I’m off then. Good luck with Miss March or with whatever you decide.”

Royce watched Renn walk away, and he glared at his retreating back. He didn’t appreciate being reminded of her lineage. Lineage that, should his parents still be alive, would never have suited. Yet Suzanna intrigued him. Had done so since the first night he saw her across the room last season, trying to hide behind her aunt and an abundance of fernery. She was sweet but with a strength of character that suited him. All he had to do now was convince her of this fact and see where it took them. Maybe all the way down a church aisle.

***

“Lost in thought?” her brother asked Suzanna as he came to stand at her side, Victoria clasping his arm.